Good to finally see you
by EffingUnicorn
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider, and your best friend is visiting you for the first time. Everything is going great, and no, you do not have a huge homocrush on your best bro, what are you talking about? JohnDave nonsense.
1. Chapter 1

**/ignores my other fic and starts this shit**

**I'm sorry for any possible OOCness or any other mistakes I've made in writing this nonsense.**

**Um, personally I feel like Dave wouldn't be very popular and in school, and is actually pretty awkward in real life. Which might not be all that evident at least yet? I think if I continue this, it'll all be from Dave's point of view.**

**Oh, and this is AU, sbrub never happened, and I may or may not throw in some humanstuck trolls. I doubt I'll end up doing that though.**

**Well, that's enough blabbering from me. I hope you enjoy and I'd love some reviews!**

Egbert is late, but that was to be expected. Since when have planes every arrived on time? You wait patiently, of course, not letting yourself get worked up over things like late flights and excessive waiting. Okay, maybe you're fidgeting just a little bit in frustration, but that's besides the point.  
In fifteen minutes you're chewing on your straw until there's only a thin strip of plastic left.  
"Where the hell are you?" you mutter to nobody in particular. You start toying with your shades without taking them off.  
You must have missed the change on the screen saying the late flight has arrived, because there's a loud clatter of a suitcase being dropped to the ground and you're suddenly engulfed in a pair of crushing arms, belonging to no other than John Egbert.  
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod."  
You let yourself smile a bit (he can't see you right now after all what with his face pressed into your shoulder in his eagerness), and hug him back lightly, patting his back slightly.  
John lets go at last, a huge grin plastered to his face, showing off his buck teeth in all their glory. You would laugh, but you're a Strider, so you supply him with a small smirk instead.  
"Oh my god, I can't believe I'm finally here, the flight was so late I was getting really impatient, there was this drunk guy and it was really weird and he kept kicking at the back of my chair, and woah you're a lot taller than me, that's kind of embarrassing!" It looks like the only thing that stopped him from talking was the need for oxygen, so you get a word in while you have the chance.  
"Breathe, Egbert," you instruct him. "Breathe."  
He laughs sheepishly and picks up the bag he had dropped earlier. "Sorry!"  
"Wouldn't want you to die on your first day here. There'd be legal troubles."  
He laughs. You smirk.  
He starts going on about the strange tasting crackers on the plane as the two of you head out of the airport and to your car.

You stop at a McDonald's on the way home, eating inside rather than risking the Drive Thru, where they were bound to get your order wrong.  
"What do you want to eat?" You nudge John with your elbow to stop him from spacing out. Typical Egbert.  
"Anything's good," he tells you happily, and rushes off to get settled at a table ahead of time.  
You order yourself large fries and a Coke and a Happy Meal for John, replacing fries with apple slices and a soda with chocolate milk.  
That's what he gets for being indecisive.  
"Food," you tell him, and dump the Happy Meal Box in front of him on the table. "Try not to choke on the apples."  
John huffs at the apple slices but his eyes surprisingly light up at the sight of the chocolate milk. "Aww yeah, chocolate mil-woah, is that a Scooby-Doo toy?"  
"God, Egbert, I swear you're still ten sometimes."  
He sticks his tongue out at you in an exaggerated imitation of a little kid before starting on his meal. He finishes it in record speed and moves on to help you with your fries. You protest for the sake of protesting, but you both know you don't really mind.

When you arrive at your apartment an hour later, John jumps out of the car and stares up at the tall building.  
"It's huge!"  
"Nothing compared to my dick."  
John rolls his eyes. "I'm sure." Sarcasm must be contagious.  
You help him get his back out of the car, and then, because you're a fucking gentleman, you decide to carry it all the way to the elevator. Once you're both inside, you punch one of the buttons, and the doors slide shut before the elevator begins to ascend.  
"Ugh, I don't like elevators," John mutters.  
You blink in surprise, not that it's possible to see through your shades, and notice that John is indeed looking a bit queasy.  
Throwing a friendly arm around his shoulders, you tusse his already messy hair.

"It's all good, we're almost there, _darlin'_," you say jokingly, exaggerating your Texas drawl.

John grinned as usual right as the elevator stops, doors opening. Just in time, too. You're suddenly aware of an alarmingly fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach at the sight of John's smile.

Damn it, Strider, pull it together.

It's almost eight in the evening, and you're scavenging the kitchen for whatever food you can find. Bro should really do the groceries soon. You find a few cups of instant noodles, and fill two with water, putting them into the microwave to heat up while you continue to look for anything else you could magic into dinner. You don't find any food, but you do find an unopened bottle of apple juice. Egbert will just _love _that.

John is lying on the couch, a blanket covering his crossed legs. Eagerly, he looks to see what you've brought.

"Ooh, noodles!" he says happily.

"Yep. And juice."

"Oh god. Dude, I'm not drinking that."

"Paranoid fucker."

"Hey, I'm just being cautious!" he insists, trying to get a forkful of noodles into his mouth, but ending up dropping them, broth splashing onto his glasses.

The evening proceeds in a similar manner, full of joking, laughing (on John's part), and throwing things at the TV screen whenever one of you got bored of the channel.

By midnight, John is yawning, and you figure its about time you yourself go to bed, seeing as there's one more day of school for you until spring break.

The two of you head to your room, kicking puppets out of the way as you walk. Your place is a mess, and neither you or Bro will clean. Not that you'd touch those creepy-as-fuck puppets even if you did.

You lead John to your room, and he throws himself onto your bed, bouncing a few times, before pulling his sleeping bag out and dumping it on the floor. You toss a pillow at him and he just barely catches it.

"Hey, Dave," he mutters when the lights have already been turned off, and he's already settled comfortably in his sleeping bag on the floor.

"Yeah?" you mumble, voice muffled.

"It's really cool to finally see you."

You can't think of anything to say to that, but you smile into your pillow before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes three attempts from your alarm clock to finally convince you to get your ass out of bed. John is still sleeping soundly, and you figure there's no reason to wake him up, so you make sure not to step on him as you go about your morning routine.

After getting dressed in a graphic tee and jeans, brushing your teeth, and having a stare down with your hair without ever actually touching it, you grab a Pop Tart and start your walk to school. You would drive, but you don't have a designated parking spot, and it's a pain to circle around looking for a free space.

School goes by much as usual, and everything seems to sort of blur together. It isn't until your last class, gym, that something snaps you out of your daze. You're sitting down, leaning against the wall, not playing basket ball like the rest of your classmates. You'd purposely "forgotten" your uniform for what must have been the six billionth time that year. Suddenly, a low, aggressive voice calls your name.

"Hey, Strider!"

Dammit. You don't respond.

"Strider," he repeats, closer now.

Suppressing a sigh, you turn your head almost lazily to look at the speaker, Tyler-something, flanked by two of his friends. You try to appear as uninterested as possible. Keep calm, keep your head.

"Yeah?"

"You're not playing, Strider," he almost spits. You hate the way your name sounds coming from his mouth.

"Not today," you agree, hoping they'll be discouraged and leave.

No such luck.

"How many times does this make?" Tyler-something asks. "Got something against the locker room?"

"Um." You didn't mean to say anything, and you mentally curse yourself.

"Sounds a bit suspicious, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you."

Tyler-something takes a step forward, and you resist the instinct to shrink back and become as small as possible.

"Or _maybe _you're not allowed. Maybe they don't want you to be looking at our junk?"

You stare at him. "..What the hell?"

"You a faggot, Strider?"

The teacher blows his whistle before you can even open your mouth. You're left sitting there in shock as the rest of the class files out of the gym.

What the fuck?

"Strider!" the teacher barks, and you stand up, blood rushing back into your numb legs.

You wait outside of the locker room as usual. You're amazed Tyler-Something had come to the conclusion that you were gay.

Okay, so maybe you were.

But that has nothing to do with your disliking of gym and everything to do with your huge homogay crush on your best friend who is currently chilling in your apartment, waiting for you to come home. Which is pretty cool.

When the bell signifying the end of the school day rings, and you waste no time in hoisting a strap of your backpack to your shoulder and practically dashing through the hall and to the exit.

You groan when you see your bus hasn't come yet, so you end up having to wait around as the rest of the school pours out from the doors you just came through yourself.

Your bus still isn't there, but you're not very surprised. Your busdriver is notorious for not speaking English and she's been on time probably a whopping three times this year. You could just walk home, but it's so hot outside, you're really not in the mood.

Suddenly, you hear your name being called. Your first instinct is to sigh, but you realize whoever is calling for you is using your firstname. That can't be anybody in school.

"Dave! Hey, hey, Dave!"

You look around until you spot John waving furiously, bounding over towards you, glasses almost sliding off his face.

What the hell is he doing here? Not that you mind.

"There you are! I was looking all over for you, and I was beginning to worry I'd missed you! I got tired of just waiting around at your house, and your bro lent me your car keys so I could come and pick you up. It's really hot outside; is it always like this?" John kept talking until he finally reached you, beaming.

You actually spare him a smile. It's good to see him after a shitty day.

"Woah, was that an actual _smile_?" he gasps, feigning shock. "Did Mister Strider actually _smile_ at me? All of the girls must be _swooning_."

Your stomach does several nervous backflips. "Strider smiles, specially reserved for a Mister Egbert," you mutter.

He laughs, and the two of you begin to head to where John has parked your car; he was smart enough to to attempt the packed school parking lot.

Just as you're almost off school grounds, you hear a shout from behind you.

"FAGGOTS."

Jaw clenching, you grab John's arm and drag him away as fast as possible.

"Who was that?" John asks once the two of you are seated in the car, him in the driver's seat after he insisted. Neither of you had spoken until now.

"Nobody. Just some asshole."

John tilts his head, brows knitting together. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He casts you a concerned look, obviously put off by your sudden gloomy attitude, but seems to make an effort to lighten the mood. "Probably just jealous!"

You snort in disbelief. "Jealous?"

"Yep! Wishing he could spend time with a kid as cool as you. Or maybe he's jealous that you're so cool in general-or both! Any number of things!" he starts off, and keeps rambling. You don't stop him. "I mean, I've never met anybody who can pull off the whole shades thing as well as you, and you can, um, slam rhymes or whatever, and you're like, the master of ironic humour and stuff, which is totally not as awesome as good old fashioned pranking, but still, it's like, _your_ thing!" He nods to emphasize his point.

You stare at him, speechless for a second. You don't even try to pull it off cool; you just gawk at him.

"Uhh, Dave?" John asks, mildly concerned. "Earth to Dave?"  
"Huh? Oh sorry, I just-um, that was pretty cool. What you said."  
John waved his hand dismissively. "No problem! Just telling my best bro the truth!"  
Your nod and push your backpack to the car floor between your feet. "Yep. Best bros," you mutter. You know you're being unfair. You know it's selfish to want to be something more than a "best bro".  
But hell, you've never denied that you're selfish.  
"Huh?"  
"Nothing. Let's go."  
You end up stopping at the grocery store first. John clambers into the shopping cart before you can stop him, and holy shit, can he get any dorkier?  
It's fucking adorable.  
You push him through the aisles, getting both amused and disapproving looks from the customers, but neither of you care.  
You sprint down an empty aisle as fast as you can without the cart toppling over, John holding onto the sides and grinning wildly, and almost collide with a huge display of stacked cake mix boxes.  
"Dude, get away from that!" he protests as you reach to grab a box, just to mess with him. It seems to be working.  
You wave the box in his face.  
"Noooo!" he manages to whine and laugh at the same time.  
Your shopping trip ends up consisting less of actual shopping and more of trouble making. Several hours later, you finally leave with numerous bags of chips, candy, soda, more chips, noodles, frozen pizza, and a warning from the store that if you ever behave the same way again, you won't be coming back.  
Also cheese puffs.  
When you arrive home, the time is already creeping on six. You open a bag of chips, heat up a pizza, and tear through Bro's and your collection of video games.  
John crushes you at all of them.  
You beat him five dollars he won't beat you in Mario Kart.  
You become five dollars poorer.  
By nine, you've eaten two bags of chips, one pizza, and two and a half bottles of soda.  
After you've exhausted all of your video games, you agree to watch Con Air with John, if only because his ridiculously unironic love for that movie and all things Nicolas Cage have become somewhat of a legend.  
"No, but seriously, it's the best movie!" John says as he carefully puts the disc in the DVD player. Of course he brought the movie with him. "Best. Move."  
You roll your eyes behind your shades. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say"  
"You'll see!" He settles back on the couch next to you, pulling the blanket over himself.  
"Hey, I'm cold too," you complain. Really you couldn't care less, but you just want to be difficult.  
John scoots a bit closer so that he manages to throw the blanket over both of you.  
Suddenly you care a whole lot.

Maybe this whole movie thing won't be that bad at all.

After Con Air, you watch whatever you can find for free on Netflix. Half-way into some weird foreign film you can't remember the name of, John is asleep, leaning heavily on your shoulder.

The whole left side of your body is numb, and you really want to move to get the blood flowing again, but there is no way in hell you're waking Egbert to tell him to move.


	3. Chapter 3

**I would update more often, but I'm super busy with Driver's Ed three hours a day. I don't get home until six. I have one more week of it.  
**

**A pretty short chapter, but I wanted to give you guys _something _at least! I've started the fourth chapter, but yeah.**

**Well, enjoy..!**

**(Also, formatting is a bit of a bitch)**

**Edit: Wow, what the hell? I used CA instead of TG for Dave's Peserchum. Thank-you, anon.**

You're the first to wake up, somewhat uncomfortable with Egbert resting most of his weight on you. You're not complaining though.

You'd fallen asleep yourself shortly after John, and the fact that his arm is flung over your midsection, face pressed into your side, totally makes up for the fact that you weren't able to shift into a comfortable position all night.

John's eyes blink open groggily.

"Ahh, g'morning," he mumbles, detangling himself from you and stretching. "Sorry, I fell asleep."

"It's fine." You sit up, and it takes you a second to realize you fell asleep with your shades on.

"You could have woken me up!"

"Nah, you looked all comfy. Didn't want to disturb the sleeping beauty."

He laughs and gets up. You go take a shower first, and he eats his breakfast. When it's his turn to shower, you decide to log into Pesterchum for the first time since John arrived.

Rose is the only one online.

**- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 8:14 -**

TG: sup lalonde  
TT: Good morning. You seem to be up unusually early?  
TG: yep  
TT: So how is meeting or dear friend John?  
TG: cool  
TG: its cool  
TG: did you know he has dimples?  
TT: Dimples?  
TG: fucking dimples  
TT: Interesting. No, I was not aware. However, he informed me you have freckles.  
TT: Why did I not know of this earlier?  
TG: sup lalonde how are things by the way my nose is covered in tiny little dots thought you should know  
TG: never came up  
TG: wait what else did he say about me

Oh wow, that came out a lot worse than intended.

TT: My lips are sealed.  
TT: Nothing to worry about, though.  
TG: fuck you lalonde  
TT: That's a bit harsh.  
TG: just tell me

Can you sound any more desperate? Is it even humanly possible? You can practically see Rose's smirk radiating through the screen. She'd caught on to your _feelings_ (as she calls them) towards John almost before you did, and she wouldn't stop pestering you about it. No pun intended.  
You hear the bathroom door open.

TT: I will not. However, I will give you some advice.  
TT: Just go for it.

**- tentacleTherapist [TT] stopped pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 8:23 -**

TG: fuck you

"Hey, Dave!" John greets happily. His dark hair is dripping wet, and his towel is slung over his shoulders. "Ooh, you talking to Rose?"  
"Was. She logged off."  
"Aw. Well I talked to her yesterday anyway, so it doesn't matter," he says, sitting down next to you.  
You're trying your hardest not to blurt out something completely idiotic. It's surprisingly difficult.  
"Oh? what did you talk about?" you ask, as casually as possibly.  
"Stuff," he says evasively, grinning nervously.  
You don't press him to say anything more, but he's doing nothing to help your mounting curiosity.  
You eat breakfast while John nags at you to admit that Con Air is now your favourite movie ever and that you'll join him in worshipping Nicolas Cage's sweaty wife beater.  
Okay, maybe he didn't phrase it quite like that, but you decline all the same.

You decide you want to get out of the apartment for the day, and an hour later the two of you are sitting in your car, neither of you sure where you're planning on going. Bro had left you some money on the coffee table by the couch when you had been aslee-  
Holy shit, he'd seen you sleeping on the couch. He'll never let you hear the end of it.  
You turn the key in the ignition to start the car.  
"Where are we going?" John asks for the first time.  
"No idea," you admit, deciding to make a left turn. "We'll stop wherever we want."  
He seems to like the idea, and he settles comfortably into his seat while you drive.  
"You hungry?"  
"Not really."  
"M'kay."  
There's silence for awhile, but neither of you mind.  
"Egbert, are you humming?"  
"No," he says quickly.  
"Yes you were."  
"No way."  
"You sure?"  
"Okay, maybe I was a bit."  
The corners of your mouth threaten to turn up. "Cute."  
He swats at your arm. "Shush!" And then suddenly adds, "We should have a picnic."  
"A picnic?"  
"A picnic," he repeats. "Like, with sandwiches and stuff."  
You think about it for a second. "Sure," you agree. It sounds kind of fun, to be honest. Fun in a very ironic sense, of course.  
Of course.  
A few blocks later, you park by a Subway. The two of you walk inside, and John is sure not to let you order for him this time.  
Once you have your food, you don't feel like driving anymore, so the two of you clamber onto the roof of your car to eat.  
"Heh, this is cool," John says, biting into his sandwich.  
"Of course. I'm here, after all."  
"Shut uuuuup!" He throws a tomato slice at you. It hits you square on the nose, and he bursts into laughter.  
Suddenly you realize you're laughing too.  
God, it feels great to laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, it's taken me awhile to update, hasn't it?**

**I wrote and rewrote this several times, and I'm still not at all happy with the outcome, but I finally gave up and uploaded it.**

**I'm done with Driver's Ed, so _ hopefully_ I'll be updating more regularly. However, I don't have my own laptop, so I'm not on as often as I'd like to be.**

**Anyway, I hope you like it, and I'd love some reviews once again!**

It's an hour since you finished eating, but you're still laying on the roof of your car, talking about whatever comes up.  
At the moment, John is pointing out the shapes in the clouds.  
"See that? It's a rabbit-with a harmonica."  
"Why the hell does it have a harmonica?" You have no idea where he's pointing.  
"That's how he makes his living, Dave!" he tells you, sounding offended. "He's a street performer."  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."  
"He didn't have enough money for college. It's a touchy subject."  
You shake your head in amusement. He can spin these stories even better than you tell nonsensical metaphors. In fact, you feel like he's even better, seeing as you can never come up with things on the spur of the moment. You feel your own speech is actually fairly dull in real life.  
It takes you a second to realize John's babbling has stopped. He's looking down at you with a conflicted expression, eyebrows knitting together. You can practically see the gears whirring in his brain.  
"What's going on in that mind of yours?"  
"Uh," he mutters, hesitating, probably thinking over what he's trying to say. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"  
You're caught completely off guard, and you stare at him with your mouth slightly open, looking like an idiot.  
He laughs nervously. "Just wondering, you know?"  
You swallow.  
You're not embarrassed. No. Just _surprised._

Definitely not nervous. A strider is never nervous.

"No," you say shortly.  
John blinks in surprise. "No?"  
"No. I would have told you."  
He shrugs. You glance over at him, but you can't seem to read his expression, which you find unsettling. Egbert usually fucking parades his feelings around, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Such a huge contrast to your own hidden eyes and closed expressions.  
"Hey, Egbert, what's up?" after a long moment of stretched out silence.  
He wrings his hands together, staring down at the car roof. "Um, well I just thought, 'cause you're well, you, I thought you having a girlfriend was kind of-expected? Wow, this sounds really dumb."  
You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head a fraction. "Expected?"  
"Yeah, well, like, I don't know. It just-fits, you know?"  
You shrug. "I dunno. I don't talk to many people, so..."  
A look of surprised confusion crosses John's face. "Really?"  
"Yeah."  
"But you're just-I always imagined you to be like, that kid everybody wants to talk to or...or something!"  
You shrug once again. You don't really know what else to do. You've avoided talking to John about school throughout all of your friendship. Whenever the subject has come up in the past, you usually direct the conversation to John or change the topic completely. But this is real life, not a chat window, and you don't know what to do. So you just shrug your shoulders.  
John says nothing.  
You say nothing.  
It's a big let's-say-nothing-and-make-this-as-awkward-as-possible sort of moment.  
The only sound is the cars flitting past.  
"Who was that kid the other day?"  
"What kid?"  
He gives you a pointed look. "You know who I mean."  
"Nobody." It's the same answer you'd given him before.  
He gives you another look.  
"Somebody."  
"Somebody?"  
"Somebody. Nobody important. Just another idiot."  
"And are there a lot of idiots?"  
You know what he's asking. Does it happen often? _Is your life like mine? _Because throughout your years of friendship, too often you've listened to him complain about the bullies in school, the name-calling, the indifferent teachers. Too often you've just wanted to crack down and say, _fuck, bro, I know, I know._  
But all you ever gave him was a virtual pat on the back.  
But this is real life, not a chat box. There isn't a screen to hide you, and it's time for you to talk.  
"School kinda sucks," you admit. "The people suck. And the teachers. And everything."  
John stares at you, biting his lip with his slightly larger-than-usual front teeth. He waits for you to continue.  
"So yeah, there are a lot of idiots. All the time. Everyday." Wow, that didn't sound pathetic. Not at all. Taking a deep breath, you go on. "But it's cool."  
"'Cause you're a Strider?" John smiles weakly.  
You nod. "Yeah, but also because I come home and have conversations with my favourite blue-fonted bro."  
He grins a watery smile, and suddenly he's flinging his arms around you in the biggest hug you two have shared since the first day he arrived. His arms are tight around you, pulling you close, and his head ends up buried in your shoulder.  
You don't resist. On the contrary, you risk wrapping a single arm around his waist.  
"Hey, Egbert, it's cool," you assure him.  
He says something, but it's too muffled by your shoulder for you to understand, so he tilts his head up slightly before repeating it. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
You shrug. You've been doing an awful lot of shrugging.  
"No, but really! There were all those times where I just complained and complained, and you never said a word about your own stuff! I just assumed you didn't have any!" He seems genuinely upset.  
"Seriously, dude, it's cool. I deal with it." And it's true. It doesn't usually bother you. You ignore whatever words anybody throws at you, and the few times they manages to get to you, you get over it pretty quickly.  
John shakes his head. You sigh.  
"Dude, it's fine. C'mon, let's go." You grab his hand, making an effort not to lace your fingers together, because that would be _gay_.  
You dangle your legs over the edge of the car and slide down, and Egbert is quick to follow. You climb in through the passenger seat, clambering over the seats to the driver's side. When the two of you are seated, you glance over at John, trying to read his expression, before turning the keys in the ignition and starting the car.  
You feel John's eyes on you the whole car ride.


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, I don't even know anymore.**

**I'm sorry for this bullshit.**

**Well, I hope you enjoy anyway! And as usual, please drop a review!**

You're oddly jumpy the next day, constantly fearing you'll let something fatal slip. "John can you pass the jam? Oh, and also, do you wanna make out with me sometime?"  
You don't know what's suddenly got you in such a fix, but somehow you're always on the verge of saying something catastrophic. Your only comfort is that Egbert doesn't seem to be noticing your internal strugg-  
"Hey, Dave? What's up with you. You seem to be kind of out of it today."  
Well so much for him not noticing.  
The two of you are playing video games again, and you're losing even more spectacularly than usual. John has paused the game and is looking over at you with a half-worried, half-curious expression.  
"Yeah." You shrug. "Headache. No big deal."  
He doesn't look too convinced. "You sure? I mean, I know I'm great at video games-" You snort.-"But this is kinda ridiculous!"  
You shake your head. "Nah, really, it's cool."  
"Are you sure you're not sick?"  
"Yep. Just a headache."  
"Whatever you say..."  
You give him a rare smile, which cheers him up in seconds. "C'mon, dude, let's go out somewhere."  
"Is this a-" He takes a dramatic pause. "-_date_, Mister Strider?"  
You make a sort-of choking sound which you somehow manage to pull off as a snort. "If you want it to be." You raise your eyebrows and smirk. Years of practice are finally pulling off.  
"I'm honoured," he laughs, standing up and grabbing your hands to pull you up as well.  
In a very bro-like way, of course.  
Or-almost. Because he holds onto your hands a second too long, giving you an odd look, before dropping them and running a hand through his dark eternally-bed-head hair, grinning awkwardly.  
"Aw, come on, _darlin_', no need to be embarrassed."  
"Shut uuuup, Dave!" He grabs a pillow from the couch and smacks the side of your face with it, letting it fall to the ground. You scoop it back up and throw it at him.  
You catch Bro slink past, and you swear you can hear him laugh before the apartment door slams and he's gone as usual.  
Never sticks around long, does he?  
"C'mon, Egbert, let's go for a romantic walk in the park." He rolls his eyes but follows you when you lead him out of the apartment.  
You actually do end up in a park. Except it's the playground-kind, and you and John snag the swings the first chance you get. He challenges you to a competition on how high you can swing, and after swearing that you think it's the dumbest idea ever, you get rather competitive. The two of you are in danger of breaking the swing set, you're pretty sure, so you take one last push and soar off the seat, landing on your feet.  
You regain your balance just in time to see John flying through the air, except his landing isn't as smooth, and he ends up tripping over his feet and falling to the ground.  
He bursts out laughing and you help him up. There are a few families around you, some of which are smiling while others are giving you looks that clearly state "Don't you dare show my dear Suzy such a bad example!"  
After tearing through the jungle-gym, the two of you are building a sandcastle in the sandbox, and you realize how absolutely ridiculous the pair of you must look.  
But to be honest, you really don't care, because it's _fun_, and you can't remember the last time you've felt so at ease before Egbert came. Even the constant pressure of not confessing your "_feelings_" to him can't ruin this.  
After a while, you abandon your little sand-structure (it's not quite worth the "castle" status, you think), and just sit back on the ledge of the sandbox to watch Egbert. His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration as he smooths down the sand around his little fortress, and you feel the corners of your lips lift involuntarily just tiniest bit.  
You grab a fallen twig and stick it on the tip of one of the towers. He glances up at you and gives you a wide smile before going back to adding the finishing touches. You help him, and soon the two of you are admiring your (mostly his) handiwork with satisfied expressions.  
"Someday I will become king of some long-forgotten island, and I'll build a palace just like this," you tell him. "I'll make sure to have an eerily-realistic statue of you in the courtyard."  
"Sure, sure. You can leave the statue out though."  
"No way! I need to credit the designer, after all."  
"Ff. Whatever, Dave."  
"Hey, Egbert?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I think I love you."  
Wait what.  
"Wait what?" He stares at you for a second, before breaking into an odd sort of grin. "Don't do that!" His voice seems almost strangled.  
It's nothing compared to yours.  
"Um." You just stand there. Your arms suddenly feel awkward at your sides, and you don't know how to hold them. Your mouth is dry. You don't know where to look, which you guess doesn't really matter with your shades on, but you still end up boring a hole in the ground with your gaze. There's a lump the size of Jupiter stuck in your throat. "I'm kinda serious. In an un-ironic sort of way."  
"Uh, Dave?"  
You look up at him, not trusting your voice.  
What the hell did you do, what the hell did you do, what the hell did you do?  
Why the _fuck_ did you _fuck_ _this up._  
You didn't mean to say it; it just kind of happened.  
"Are you serious?"  
"I just said I was."  
"But I never know with you."  
"I'm serious."  
"Oh."  
_Oh_. Well that's great. _Oh_. Is that really the only response he can give you?  
It plays over and over again in your head. _Oh_.  
"Um, Dave?"  
You look up yet again. "Dude, just forget it," you tell him. "Look, sorry. That was dumb."  
"So...you're _not_ serious?" His blue eyes are wide and confused, and you're pretty sure you just saw a flicker of-disappointment?  
You're crazy. That's it. You've simply gone off the deep end. And suddenly you can't even keep your fucking mouth shut.  
"No! Fuck, Egbert, I'm serious as hell. If seriousness was a person, it would be me. I just-I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to say that, even if it is true, 'cause I know you have your whole 'I am not a homosexual thing', but like, _I_ am. I guess. And the whole world but you knew it, and now you do too, and fuck, fuck, fuck, look I am _sorry_."  
You're panicking. You're panicking like crazy, and everything is coming out in a jumbled mess.  
"Shut up, Dave."  
You do. You stare at him.  
"I'm not a homosexua-"  
"I _know_-"  
"No, just listen to me!" He runs a hand in his hair again. It's a nervous habit of his you've picked up on. You've picked up on all his habits, his quirks.  
He goes on. "I'm not. At least I _think_ so. But like-I don't know _what_ I am, okay? And it's all really confusing, and I don't really like to think about it a lot, and there's never anybody there to explain it to me, and I just _don't understand_ what's going on through my head, okay?" He takes a deep breath. "So I just kind of ignored it all and went around parading my whole 'not homosexual' thing around, 'cause I'm not, at least not completely. I don't think I'm anything. But I was talking to Rose, right? And apparently I don't _have_ to be anything, and that just makes everything even more confusing, and I just-why hasn't anybody _explained_ any of this to me ever?"  
You're holding on to his every word.  
He continues without waiting for you to add your input, which is lucky, because you're completely lost for words. "And-and, the thing is, maybe it would have been okay, but even with the whole jumble of 'I am not a homosexual' but 'I don't think I'm straight' there was always that one person that stood out and it was _you_, you dumb Strider."


	6. Chapter 6

**This may or may not be the last chapter?**

**If you guys want, I can make an extra fluff chapter or two, but I don't know. **

**I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I feel like it's gotten progressively worse throughout the whole fic, but maybe that's because I suddenly realize there are people actually reading this. PEOPLE WITH EXPECTATIONS I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO MEET.**

**Anyway, sorry it's a bit short! Drop a review please. 3**

"Oh."

The sound slips from your lips without your consent and hangs in the air between you like a soap bubble.

"So there you go," he says, nodding firmly once as if to finalize his speech. "Yeah."

You stare at him. You stare at him, and he stares right back and doesn't look away.

You're pretty sure he knows you're staring at him, even with your dark shades which suddenly feel like the stupidest thing ever, but you can't do anything about that now.

"Dude, can you please like, say something? Anything?"

"Sorry," you choke. "Forgot how to talk there for a second."

One

Two

Three seconds of silence.  
"You are an idiot, Strider," John snorts, and suddenly he's a lot closer to you than he was a second ago, and holy shit, his eyes and eyelashes and dimples and crooked smile-  
All of that rushes from your mind when you feel his lips on yours, his hands on either side of your face, pulling you down so as to reach. It takes you a moment to realize you should probably kiss back, two seconds to drop your hands to his waist, and it is the most wonderful thing you have ever felt in your entire life.  
At least you're pretty sure, because Egbert's lips have chased away any rational thought that previously resided in your head. You don't even remember your own name.  
Or that you're standing in a children's playground.  
Where there are children.  
Playing.  
John pulls away from you.  
_No come back._  
For one terrifying second you're expecting him to admit it was all a misunderstanding.  
A prank.  
A mistake.  
But then you realize he's looking down, and you follow his gaze to a little red-headed girl whose little hand is tugging at the hem of John's shirt.  
"Is he your boyfriend?" she pipes up, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.  
"Yeah," Egbert says. "I guess he is."  
She giggles. "He's cute."  
"The cutest," he agrees.  
The girl nods seriously. "Take good care of him."  
"I will," John laughs.  
The girl flashes a gap-toothed grin before turning on her heel and running over to a very shocked looking mother.  
"C'mon, Dave, let's go!"  
He drags you by the hand out of the park before the mother can say a single word to you.  
You're laughing too hard to protest.

You end up back at your apartment after many unnecessary detours, because Egbert is leading the way and you're having too much fun to tell him where to turn.  
You unlock the door one handed, your other being firmly in John's, a fact you've been conscious of ever since you left the playground.  
A fact you're very okay with.  
You make your way to the living room, but Bro is sitting on the couch with the most knowing, infuriating smirk imaginable, clearly registering your linked hands right away.  
Hell, he probably sniffed it out the moment you stepped into the apartment.  
You stride right past, John trotting along behind you. You catch Bro give the pair of you a thumbs up, and John snickers before the two of you are in your room.  
You drop down to sit at the end of your bed, legs crossed, and John follows suit, never letting go of your hand.  
You stare at each other for a moment, but unlike at the park, it's not awkward in the least bit.  
"So, how's it feel to be my boyfriend, Strider?" John jokes, tugging at your hand slightly, pulling you closer.  
You help him by scooting forwards a couple inches. You lean down, your noses bumping into each other.  
"Haven't had much of a chance to find out yet, have I?" you tell him.  
"No, I suppose not," he agrees, and releases your hand, instead grabbing onto the front of your shirt before kissing you for the second time.  
You waste no time kissing him back this time, tangling your hands into his dark hair. Your glasses clack together, and before you can stop him, he slips yours off, barely breaking the kiss.  
He doesn't even blink at your surprising eye-colour before you're kissing again, and at that point, eye colour is the last thing on your mind.  
His tongue tongue in your mouth is much more of a priority right now.  
The two of you separate only when you have to reemerge for breath.  
Once your breathing is at least somewhat steady, you smirk and nod. "Being your boyfriend feels pretty good."  
He sticks his tongue out at you and pulls you into another kiss.  
Yeah, you think, Being John Egbert's boyfriend feels pretty good.


End file.
